


It Believes in Sherlock

by cassieking13



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-04
Updated: 2013-06-04
Packaged: 2017-12-14 00:12:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/830462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassieking13/pseuds/cassieking13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the fall, John's heartbroken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Believes in Sherlock

Watching him fall, it felt like the world was slipping away. Everything I’d never said to him came to mind and it was all clamoring around in my skull, fighting to be said first. But I couldn’t get the words out. I just watched as Sherlock Holmes hit the ground.  
When he didn’t have a pulse, my heart froze over and I went numb. Nothing mattered to me except that Sherlock was dead. He had brought me to life and without him there, everything went back to being shades of gray. A deep ache took the place of my heartbeat and my limp came back. Sherlock had saved me from myself and now he was gone and I was slipping away again.  
When I returned to the flat, I thought I could handle it. But everything reminded me off him. The equipment littering the kitchen table, the precariously stacked books and papers, the faint smell of Sherlock shampoo. And I couldn’t take it.  
I went and curled up on his bed, wrapping his blanket around me and burying my face in his pillow, surrounding myself with Sherlock so that I could stop the pain. Stop the endlessly throbbing ache of loneliness that had followed me for the past three months. But it didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop it.  
That’s why I’m sitting here, the cold pistol pressed to my temple, wondering if I can live without him. Every memory of him floods through my mind in an endless stream of frantic dialogue and pictures, blurring together and bringing tears to my eyes.  
My finger tightens on the trigger as I feel myself slipping, down and down, falling just like Sherlock did, cringing in anticipation of the crash.

________________________________________________________________

The gun is on the floor. It’s been there for hours. I couldn’t do it. As many times in my life as I have pulled that trigger, I couldn’t do the same tonight. Because some delusional part of my being doesn’t believe in that fall. It doesn’t believe in the lack of heartbeat or all that blood.  
It believes in Sherlock.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry it's short and depressing. Feels are a bad habit to break.


End file.
